It happened a long time ago but thinking about it still brings a rash of goosebumps.
The only time I believed in ghosts was when I was in K-5th grade. Stories of the "blue hand" stalking the unsuspecting girls circulated the hush hush whispers of the bathrooms. Those days I used to be thankful that I was a day- scholar.
Later, much later, I came to the US and forgot about my childhood paranoia of bathrooms. I used to live in the 14th floor, studio apt of a high rise building. It was small, had a great view of the tops of bare, naked trees or lush green foliage depending on the seasons. Stormwatching was my favorite past time and the lightning seemed to shoot right past my windows. And when the wind howled, it moaned like a banshee in pain which gave me a temporary earache in the morning. Nevertheless, I loved the little, sunny apt with abundent leafy, creepy, crawly vines framing my windows.
One particular year, I had just gotten my first job and was working full time as well as carrying 18 credit hours in my haste to graduate. My mother visited me and was shocked at the books piled up everywhere but the shelf mournfully at the corner of my studio. "Haree! hindney thaaon pani chaina! ke halath ma baaseeko hola!" she would exclaim as she tried to tidy up my room. " Mamoo mero kitaab na- saareesyos- na, mero jaanch aaoondaicha ke!" I would say in frustration as I looked for bits and pieces of valuable notes tucked randomly in my text books. My mom would just look at me like I had somehow lost my mind in the paper trail I left from my bed to the dining table to the kitchen and on to the hallway.
One day, I came back home from one of my night classes. It was around 10 pm, I always took the metro where 45 minutes of train ride afforded me 30 minutes of very needed power nap between my job and my classes. As I straggled into the apt, my patient mother had heated up my food and was waiting for me. "Sitara, here is a suggestion, tai le ghar kinna sakchas?" I looked at her in amazement, actually, at her faith in my capacity to buy a house in the US. "Bichar gar, you pay so much rent for this cramped up little place... why not spend it to pay off a house?" "Hyaaa mamoo, hajur pani!" I dismissed the thought. But, the seed had been planted in my mind.
The next few weeks, the thought of owning a house was a nagging thought in my mind. Even the apt began to shrink in size. So, I thought, when I graduate I could afford a house so, why not start looking around. So, decided to have a look-see. At this my mom said, "Hera Sitara, joon paye tyahi ghaar pani hunna ni! You have to do proper puja before you move into a house. Bhoot pret hunchan... yeso hernoo... yahan satyanarayan puja garna ta mildaina tyahi pani...yeso... puja garera matra hai!" "Ha ree mamoo, I am just looking! hernae matrai... maybe in the summer, I will buy one in leisure. kaam bata pani chutti huncha 2 mahina ani matra kinney ke! Tyahi pani Amrika ko bhoot sanga ke daraooney ni!"
So I called up a realtor. Wow! I was looking to buy a house! Sounded good enough for me. Had I even a slight inkling of what was to follow, I'd have promptly abandoned the idea.
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To be continued....
Note: Please read at your own risk (this narration is a mental break from the rigors of an assessment prep which is killing me ) and correct the typos as you read (as I am brain-numbed!)
